Go Quietly Into that Winter's Night
by Rage Buddha
Summary: When one choice can change everything, earn all that you have ever wanted, but could cost everything if you were careless, what would you do? With the deck stacked against you, you even the odds by any means. [Summer Knght Spoilers. Begins at end of SK]
1. So Ends the Fight Now comes the Night

**Title: **_Go quietly into that winter's night._

**Author: **_Vash_ _The Unholy_

**Notes: I**_d simply like to say thanks to those who have been infinitely supportive and helpful to this project: Nuhuh for being a sounding bored, helping me keep characters as close to canon as completely possible, checking for spelling and grammar, and for being a sport about it. Surarrin for being an ass when I wasn't in canon compliance. Tragedian, Rehio and Sanquinarius for being wonderful sounding boards as well._

_----_

It was done. I had done it. I had saved the girl, stopped the thief, and won Mab's support to the Council by proving her innocence; all in the name of saving my own ass. Huzzah!

Lying too tired to move or care next to Aurora's cold and empty body, it felt rather…pointless and anticlimactic somehow. Like there should have been something more. Maybe fireworks or shouts of celebration, something more than the cold body of a well-intentioned, yet misguided woman. I don't know what I was expecting having seen everything I had in my life, but one can hope, you know?

Quarter of an hour later the Queens found me in the same spot, staring tiredly downwards. I became dimly aware of their gold and blue auras dancing behind me and the tingle of their power. Aurora was bathed in a golden light for a moment, before the aura flitted elsewhere, taking the dead flesh with it. I couldn't help but feel minutely jealous of her at that time. To have the freedom death must bring. But I wasn't, I mused with a somewhat cynical smile. I was left cold and tired on the ground, but alive.

Titania lingered only a moment before departing, leaving me in the cool blue aura of Mab. Her fingers danced lightly in my hair as she placed her hand on my head, a gesture surprisingly gentle for one with such potential for cruelty. "You have done well, Wizard. I am pleased."

"Go away, Mab," I muttered in a tired voice.

"Nay, mortal," she commented with a laugh, "It is you who must depart, along with your companions."

"What about Toot-toot?" I asked.

"It is … uncommon for a mortal to Call even the lowest of faerie into service," she spoke slowly. "But it has happened before. You need not fear for your little warriors. As your weapons, only you will be held accountable for their actions." When she spoke next,

I could almost feel the soft distaste in her voice. "Take their steel and that alone will suffice."

I smiled a little at that. At least Toot-Toot and his gang would be alright. They were odd but a good bunch of faerie. I'd have to remember to get them something special next time I visited; the same for the Alphas. This reminded me, as I pushed myself up to a standing position; that I had yet to check on them. "You are going to live up to your end of the bargain then?"

"Of course. The wizards will have safe passage," she answered evenly.

"No, I meant our bargain."

Mab turned a dangerous, enticing smile in my direction. "Allow me to make an offer first."

With a graceful gesture of her hand the thick patch of thorns cleared. Maeve, clad in her white armor, stood accompanied by Mother Winter shrouded entirely in black. Lloyd Slate knelt before them in obvious pain, his hands shackled to a collar around his neck, the entire thing made of something that looked like clouded ice. He was little more than a muscle-bound addict and pawn. I could almost feel sorry for him.

"There is a traitor in our midst," Mab practically purred, "one who will be dealt with accordingly. After which there will be an opening for a Knight amongst Winter." Mab watched me with a cautious, calculative gaze. "I would have one more worthy of such trust as his successor. I offer you this, accept, and all debts between us are canceled."

Of all my past experiences with the Fae, my reaction should have simply been to turn her down flat. Dealing with faerie was often more a hassle than any gain could outweigh. It probably held more truth when dealing with the Winter Court, which was considered by nearly all to be the crueler and more oft malicious of the Courts. I knew this from personal experience with my own Faerie Godmother, Lea. So why did I consider it?

At worst, I could be treated as I had seen Slate during my brief venture to Undertown; a servant and slave to be abused and kicked about at their every whim. I wouldn't have put it past any of them, though perhaps in different forms.

Mab seemed more subtle from what I had seen of her, while Maeve far more open with her crueler, colder nature. I honestly had no idea what to expect at best. Riches, power, and any woman within the court I should desire? Knowledge any mortal wizard would kill to but glance at? Maybe and maybe not.

I suppose my honest expectation was that I would be treated with little difference than I was now, within my own circle. A bother and a nuisance; a thing to be ignored when unneeded and treated with contempt when interaction was unavoidable.

"What," I found myself asking, "Precisely, would that have me doing?"

"Protecting the best interests of Winter, whatever form it should take," Mab answered calmly in a simple tone.

I pursed my lips into a frown of displeasure. "Forgive me my lack of such elegance and diction, but you want me as a hired gun, for all that its worth. Kill him, steal that, and intimidate him."

"If that is what it should take," the Queen answered simply. "But there is more to Winter than violence and death, Wizard. Were it otherwise, there would be little left of our Court."

Not that I hadn't thought there wasn't. They would have make a lot more enemies if they had, and undoubtedly, there would be a lot more wars going on between Winter and their enemies. But that didn't mean they were any better than Marcone. Johnny Marcone, leader of Chicago's largest crime syndicate, felt he was doing the city a service by crushing his criminal competition. Perhaps he was and perhaps he wasn't, I'm not one to debate the semantics of it. But I had my doubts Mab or any other Sidhe in Winter felt the same. Most probably never gave thought to right or wrong; or whether or not they were helping someone.

"So," I began slowly, "I do all your dirty work and the stuff that might put you at risk. And all I get out of it is power?" I snorted lightly. "Seems I get the short end of the stick here."

"Perhaps that is all that seems obvious, Wizard, but there are other benefits." She smiled conspiratorially. "Freedom from your Council is all too easy to arrange. Money, women, power, material possessions; little is out of your reach."

"Nothing I couldn't gain on my own," I retorted with a shrug.

"A valid point, Wizard," Mother Winter's creaking voice answered. "But could you match the protection from them that we could offer you? Would it not be a short matter of time, should you embrace this freedom alone, before the Council's dogs were at your throat?"

And how they would, I mused. There were already too many who wanted my head for me to count. The Red Court vampires, Morgan, and Marcone, and I've lost count of all the others. Power I have, perhaps in spades or not, skill I have a moderate amount of, knowledge…I have Bob; but still. I've probably made it this far only because of those few allies I have. Like Murphy, Michael, Ebenezer, Susan. Could I survive alone, if I cut off all of those ties? Not likely, I mused.

"So what am I to do in my off time?" I asked. "Scrub toilets?"

Mab shrugged elegantly, "Whatever it is that pleases you, so long as no harm is drawn to the court." Her eyes gazed intently at me. "I do hope you will consider my offer seriously, Dresden. It would be a terrible shame to waste such talent amongst the blind."

"Quite," Maeve's voice floated, "It would be most … interesting to have you among us under such permanent circumstances." She smiled blandly in my direction, distaste shining in it. "Though, we still have our issues to … discuss. I'm certain we'll both enjoy it."

I sighed muttering beneath my breath, "Sure, decisions like this are made on a whim all the time, just like lunch. Sure! I'll have the ham on rye." I shook my head slightly looking up at Mab. "I'll think on it. Give me a day or two to decided? Cover all my bases before throwing my head on a chopping block?"

"Certainly," Mab answered pleasantly, "I offer anything that should sway thee, wizard. You need but ask."

"Thanks, I guess," I muttered, walking in the last direction I remembered the Alphas being in. Hell's Bells, this is such a headache.

----

Three in the morning came, and I found myself sitting on the fire escape of Billy's apartment, staring out at the lights of the city. Looking at it from here, one would never think you could find werewolves, wizards, faerie, or demons down there. Chances are, you've probably passed a vampire on the street and hadn't even known it. All of the things that go bump in the night are out there, creeping about, living like your average person. Or criminal, depending on what's going bump. And as of late, I've had the oppressing feeling they're all coming for me.

Hell, even some of my 'allies' want my head on a pike, I thought with a quiet snort. The Senior Council, the standard wizard's governmental body, had enough of them wanting my head that I knew of. Not to count those in the White Council I didn't know about. The Council, who were supposed to be unbiased and offer protection to all of its subordinates were already willing to throw me to the Red Court Vampires to stop an ongoing war. One that I had been manipulated into starting, one that had cost me the woman I had fallen in love with; Susan Rodriguez.

Susan… Thinking of her and what had transpired always brought a shiver. I should have known better, but I was too wrapped up in trying to be gentlemanly and protecting those around me. Susan was quite stubborn when it came to getting her stories. And then one that had been too tempting to ignore had been thrown at her feet. Of course, my own moronic "No, we can't go, it's too dangerous" speech hadn't done much to sway her.

So she snuck in, unprotected from the Laws of Hospitality, and no one was above it to take advantage of that. And maybe I am an idiot, but I couldn't just let them kill her. But in the end, perhaps it would have been better to let her be killed, because what happened was worse.

A war started that has claimed too many lives and Susan… Susan was Turned, at least partially. But it was only partially, so there had to be some way to cure it. I had tried as well. I worked for months, to the point of ignoring my job for the sake of getting it right. But then, perhaps barely a day ago, or less, I was given something that could have cured it.

Closing my eyes and resting my head against the cool railing behind me. I could, perhaps through work and bargains, gain another Unraveling from Mother Winter, but everything I've learned and been told says not to deal with Faeries. They were always offering just want you wanted. And it wasn't for the gain, but simply because it is their nature.

"Hey," I looked towards the window to see Billy leaning against it, holding out a coke. I nodded my thanks, taking it. "How you doing?"

"All things considered, decent enough, I suppose," I replied slowly. "How are the others?"

"Banged up, scratched up, bruised and tired, but nothing serious," his voice was tinted with quite a bit of pride.

"That's good," I murmured around the can. "Need I worry about Georgia's wrath since you are out here with me at three in the morning?"

Billy snorted, an amused smile flickering to life. "Nah, she's been taken care of."

"Nice to know." I closed my eyes, resting my head against the railing again.

"So how are you, really?" he asked around his own drink. "Cuz' you look like you have a lot on your mind."

I opened my mouth to reply on instinct before stopping. How did I feel? How would you feel, after experiencing everything that I've been through?

"Tired," I told him honestly. "Confused mostly." Leaning my head away, I glanced at the stars. "You know what happened to Susan." He nodded absently. "I found something that would be almost guarantied to cure her, a job offer, and a shit load of problems to match."

"Ok," he replied thoughtfully. "Cure good, job good, problems bad. I don't personally see a problem, man, but I don't have your experience. So what's the deal? Why is it so sour?"

"The source," I hesitated, unable to explain my thoughts fully at fist. "It's kind of hard to explain. The source… isn't really on the up and up, you know?" He didn't but I rambled on anyway. "It's like Bob says: Mortals; that being us, are too concerned with morality and what's right and wrong. Mab is a Sidhe. They don't see the world like we do. They aren't above killing or stealing to achieve what they want."

"Ah, makes sense," he muttered. "So what does she want from you?"

"…Err," I stumbled. "That I'm not sure about. She tells me she wants me as her Knight, but it's rarely so simple with Mab."

"Well, couldn't you just ask her," Billy offered.

"I could," I conceded. "And she would smile, speak in a polite and gentle if not slightly cool voice, and tell me everything I asked for; and at the same time still tell me nothing at all." I gave a hard, frustrated sigh. "The Sidhe are all masters of deception, and the Winter are rather cruel."

"So," Billy started slowly. "You're going to turn it down then."

"I… don't know, Billy. Really, I don't know." Rubbing my temples lightly, I looked up at the boy. "Everything I know tells me I should, and I know I should, but I have a chance to help Susan. I could cure her, you know? But it's more complicated than that, too."

"The White Council?"

"Not so much the Council, as a group of its members. There are a small group of people that would be thrilled to put my head on a pike for things I hadn't done or were done in self defense."

"So you get treated like shit by the management?" I grunted noncommittally at him and Billy snorted. "That is any job, though, ya know? Hell if I know why, but management is always on some kind of trip." He shrugged in a "what the hell ya gonna do" manner before speaking again, "Doesn't matter who ya work for, someone is gonna dislike you and try to make it harder." He paused momentarily. "But I know what you're saying."

"Yeah," I nodded tiredly. "I think I'm just going to call it a night, man." I grunted in effort as I stood, pins and needles running down my legs. "No rest for the wicked and all that. Could use some help tomorrow, probably. So drop by some time, yeah?" I asked.

"Sure, that's not a problem. Take it easy, man," Billy spoke, yawning himself.

----

I woke early the next morning, rousing at an unbelievable seven o'clock, though I remained in bed for nearly twenty minutes. My body still ached, and I had too much to think about. I didn't have simply Mab to worry about, but also the Council, Elaine, and my bills. Ebenezer had told me I made a lot of people see red, doing what I did. But honestly, I couldn't be bothered caring at the moment. It was very… disillusioning to see the council and wardens in this light. But I could deal with them later.

I had to find Elaine before she skipped town as well. I felt… Well, I don't know what I felt, but I thought I should talk to her one last time. Maybe somewhere inside, I wanted to be let go and be free of her entirely, so that I could commit entirely to finding and helping Susan. Maybe I wanted to be angry and yell at her for running and hiding for all those years. I mean, we were supposed to have been in love, right? But no, I suppose I would have done the same. A part of me shuddered at the thought, but another, deeper portion still wanted to be with her. I knew it was over between us, though. We had changed so much since then, but it didn't stop me for holding some faint desire or hope that it could go back to the way it used to be.

When I finally mustered the energy to drag my carcass out of bed, I noticed it was remarkably cleaner than I remembered. I don't remember paying much attention, but I do remember just shucking off my clothes and throwing them on the floor. And now they were missing. And there was a slightly pine scent to the room as well. Not the artificial, bottled stuff either; but the honest to God pine of the forest scent.

Without really thinking about it, I grabbed the first thing I found from the dresser and tossed it on in a hurry. McAnnally's served a mean breakfast, but they stopped pretty early. I threw on my slightly oversized jeans, reminding myself to put the weight I'd obviously lost back on, and grabbed a pair of grey, simple athletic socks and cotton, navy blue shirt. After dressing, I strutted out to meet the day with all the stubbornness and irresponsibility the name Harry Dresden conjured.

And I froze as I headed for the kitchen-slash-living room.

Sitting in a chair drug from my small kitchenette, Billy was chatting in an amicable voice with Fix, who wore mechanic's overalls. His frizzy white hair floated about him, in an odd way complementing the smile he wore. Lily, the nice, attractive changeling, sat on the withered and worn old couch next to him. Simple dark slacks and a green blouse showed off her shapely figure in quite an appealing way. I'm not too proud to admit that I admired the view for a moment. What really caught my eye about her, though, was her hair. It was snowy white.

Billy looked up and grinned his mischievous little grin the moment I entered. I resisted the urge to bop him one and teach him respect for his heroes. "Morning, Harry! Was going to wake you when I got here like you asked, but," he waved a gesture at Fix and Lily, "they had a gift for you."

Lily blushed prettily but smiled anyway, "I hope you don't mind too much, Mr. Dresden. I asked a few kind brownies to tidy up a bit."

I blinked. "You can do that?"

"Err…" Lily stammered slowly, embarrassment obvious. "Well, with my… new … position," she continued slowly, rubbing her hands together in her lap. "I'm given certain … respect. I'm really not used to …all this attention. It's just all this fuss over one stupid girl."

Fix smiled, patting Lily's arm gently. "You'll get used to it, I'm sure. It'll get easier." He turned his eyes up to me, "Somehow, when Aurora … passed away, her powers transferred to Lily."

Lily spoke quietly when she interrupted, "Titania says it's because I had the Summer Knight's power already. That it sought out the nearest compatible host. It normally goes to one of the queens until someone can be chosen, but I was there." She shrugged helplessly.

I tried giving what I hoped was my best reassuring smile, "You'll do wonderfully, I'm sure. You're a great person, so I hear. A damned good candidate."

Lily smiled. "Thank you, but I doubt that. I just don't know what I'm doing. Titania says she'll teach me, but I don't know how much good I can do."

I flopped down carelessly next to her on the couch and gave a comforting pat on her shoulder. "You're gonna do fine. You just need some confidence. It'll come to you as you learn more. Just gotta trust yourself, is all."

"Thank you," she whispered genuinely. "And I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me, as well. I owe you my life."

"Pish posh," I told her. "You don't owe me anything. And if you should thank anyone, it's Meryl."

"You know," Lily said softly, frowning. "You shouldn't blame yourself. You only did what you did because you have a good heart, just like Meryl did. I can't repay kindness like that, and it'll be years before I can use my… my…"

"Power?"

"…power," she imitated. "But if you ever need anything; help, a safe place, anything at all, please don't hesitate to come to me, Mr. Dresden."

I blinked a few times, before giving her my sincere thanks. "But," I added, "You can call me Harry. Now, why don't I go grab us some drinks." I offered with a smile. Looks like I wouldn't be getting any of Mac's spectacular eggs this morning.

---

It's been nearly a fortnight since Mab mad her offer and I wasn't any clearer on what answer I could give her. It was terribly tempting to accept on the spur of the moment and deal with the concequences as they came. It's not like I've not done similar before. But then, this wasn't a case, and more than my life was on the line. A single stupid choice could ruin years of friendship if I was careless.

Like Michael Carpenter, the Knight of the Cross, who had helped me endlessly. He had moments of being truly annoying, and others when he was the greatest thing since sliced bread, but he was always the best friend you could ever hope for. A devout man of God and his family to the end, I don't think I've ever seen him turn down a person in need of help if he could do something. His wife, Charity, and I have never seen eye to eye, but I understood why that was and didn't begrudge her anything. She was only trying to look out for and protect her family. I expect that were I in her place, I'd have done the same.

And then there was Karrin Murphy, Lieutenant of the Chicago PD's Special Investigation Division. She was a good cop, through and through, and I've lost count of the number of times she has saved my life over the years. She has seen some pretty weird stuff over the past few years, but manages to keep everything in order and her head on straight. You have to respect a person like that. It would be a pity to lose that kind of companion.

Shoving the Blue Beetle into park, I made my way down a winding trail heading out of Chicago and the city's glowing lights. It took nearly an hour to walk to a distance I felt comfortable with and by that time the sun had faded partially. The sky had been left painted in dark blues, reds, and oranges as day died beyond the horizon. With the reflection on the lake in front of me, it was quite an amazing sight and one rarely seen in such an area. The city usually muted such effects.

I stood a moment, contemplating what I was about to do. It was insanely stupid, but I couldn't avoid it. I had to do it sometime, or she was going to come to me. And Sidhe were generally dangerous by them selves, not counting one who was angry. And blowing off a heavyweight like her was generally a bad idea. I sighed, wondering one last time what I had done to earn such luck, before turning my face to the wind.

"My Sovereign, O' Queen most fair," I willed in a quiet voice, "I plead thee. An doth it content thee, grace thine subject. I summon thee, Winter's Beauty. Mab, an it please thee, come hither and hold discourse with me." That finished, all I could do was wait.

Five minutes passed and nothing happened when I had finished. Or maybe I was just so tense and nervous it felt that long. But I had started to think she wasn't going to show when the water several feet from the edge of the lake started to swirl slowly. In only a few seconds, the small swirl became a raging two foot wide whirlpool of air, water, and energy. In an instant, a funnel shot form the centre, arcing towards the shore only a few steps in front of me. Before ever touching the ground, the funnel began to form a vaguely feminine humanoid form, a bright light shining through its crystalline visage. So bright I had to shield my eyes.

"Greetings, Mortal," I heard the unmistakeable voice of Mab, subtly powerful, as though it resonated through the elements around me, rather than through sound itself. "Such formality, it is pleasing. Very much so," she hummed contentedly.

"Queen Mab," I spoke, perfidious respect in my voice. "I used only what I had at hand." I smiled politely. "Even with your sudden interest in me, I doubted you'd show if I called you as I have my Godmother."

"Truly," the faerie responded, "and more at heart of such matters, such disrespect would be thine end."

I took pause a moment at that. Mab wasn't someone to trifle with or who gave threats idly. "I've doubts of that, Mab, even if I know you capable," I told her tensely. "But I didn't come here for idle chitchat either."

Mab's delicate white blonde eyebrow drew up slowly in interest, "To business then, Mortal. You've considered my offer then?"

"I've thought about it, yeah," I told her, "But all it's brought is a headache and more reasons to turn you down."

Mab's smile never faltered though did become slightly cooler. "Then you will discard my generosity so carelessly? Return to your flock of trusted and respected allies?" Though her face was polite with a hint of coolness to it, her voice carried a sneer.

"I had questions for you, first," I returned with a glare, "But I've better things to waste my time with. Hell, I could be warm in my bed, rather than standing here in the mud."

"Impudence," Mab returned with only the barest hint of anger, "I could destroy you in but a breath and you'd be powerless to stop it. If we must carry on such banter, then let us away with ourselves."

"If you were going to kill me, Mab, you'd have done it."

Mab let a quiet, cold laugh pass through her lips that fell upon my cheeks as a harsh winter wind. "I speak not of death, Mortal." Her face returned to its former visage of polite neutrality. "Mortals are so concerned with death that it is their greatest fear. Nay, dearest Harry, I could do much more. Take everything you have, and leave you but a broke soul."

That I didn't doubt for an instant. "Regardless," I spoke slowly, trying to keep the quiver of fear hidden, "we have other matters to discuss. Will you answer my questions?"

Mab's smile lifted, a calculating gleam appearing in here eye. "Knowledge is power, and power is ne'er free, dear boy. What price would thee place upon such knowledge?"

What could I offer? I had precious little to offer, and less I could give. "My future," I answered with a sigh after a minute of thought. Mab gave me a look that implored I continue. "You have my name. You have my life and my freedom. I know Sidhe, and you are unconcerned with things of material gain."

"True," the resonating whisper came, "but there is much that such young minds doth not consider. A first born child, perhaps."

"I decline," I answered without thought. "My questions dictate my choice as to your offer, Mab. Answer them and I offer you this; my thrice sworn word bound by the Old Laws to give a fair and honest decision here to you on this evening."

"Worthless," the Sidhe Queen sneered, "but I shall humor you but this once, Mortal."

"How very kind of you," I drawled, "but I only have one question that really matters, so I'll not waste any more of our time. Why are you so insistent on my being your knight?"

"Pardon?" Mab asked in a chirping, coolly amused voice. "Ah, you do have much of your mother in you, dear child. To so arrogantly assume I am dedicated to you, it is quite amusing."

"No 'I can have anyone I wanted' speech? You're slipping in your age, Mab. But," I paused, "I won't be distracted from my question so easily. And you are that dedicated. From all I've heard and as much as I've seen, you aren't the type to make such offers lightly. On top of that, you seem to be all but bending over backwards to accommodate me."

"Oh?" Her voice was soft, gentle, but no less cold than it has always been. But now it seemed to be an inviting, seductive cold. "And should it be so simple, dearest? That such base desires quell your fiery might and tame the beast?" she asked, eyes raking across me as she drew up the bottom of her medieval style gown, exposing pale, delicate flesh. "So that be you want," it drew higher as she spoke softly. The sound of her voice resonating from everything and felt as though it shook my very bones. "You need but ask."

"No," I spoke after a moment. Say what you will of her, Mab is perhaps one of the most stunningly beautiful women I had ever seen. It was far too easy to find yourself entranced by her. "No, that's not what I want, and you wouldn't be the one to deliver even if I had. You are the Queen Who Is, all of winter is at your command. It's all too simple for you to call up some other trivial being to sate whatever I wanted."

Mab laughed softly. "But did you not just touch upon my dedication to obtaining your being? And what are a few moments of such base pleasures for such a grandeur prize? Naught but a triviality." The gown fell gracefully back into place and she ran her hand over it slowly to smooth any wrinkles it had gathered.

"Please," sarcasm welled easily in my voice. "Try to contain your desire." I frowned at her. "You want me, that I know, what I want is to know why. So?"

Mab smiled coolly, "It is beneficial to us both. You find yourself oft in need of power, I have more than needed. You have potential as well, dear childe. And I oft find myself pondering about you, if you truly understand how many are frightened of you."

I stared at her for a moment, confused. I knew I had a pretty good list of enemies; built up either from my meddling, my blood, or the man who taught me about magic in the beginning, Justin. But to actually fear me was sort of a ridiculous idea in my mind. I was a one man Shaggy and Scooby team; I meddled and only stayed alive by luck.

"But there are a lot of people like me out there, Mab." I told her in a casual, conversational tone. "I may not be dime a dozen, but the population of the world rules out me being one of a kind."

The Sidhe Queen's smile turned to that of a patient mother. "Ah, but you are wrong, boy, ever so. Perhaps some hold power close to them as you, but your heart separates you from them. That is what makes you so unique, so one of a kind. They do not believe as you do. And it is this that attracts me to you."

"Bullshit!" I glared.

"Take caution your tongue, dear, lest it offend you." Mab spoke, smile still patient. "I speak no dishonesty."

"Perhaps," I conceded. "But you haven't told me the answer yet. My power, potential, my heart, and beliefs, they may have some part of it, but not nearly as important as you make them seem. Why are my powers and belief so important? It isn't anything you can replicate in someone else. You are, without a doubt the strongest Winter Sidhe. I doubt there is all that much you couldn't have if you wanted it badly enough."

"Mayhap, childe," Mab answered after several moments of silence. "And I should tell you, I have your word of silence? That it should fall to the ears of none; live, dead, or otherwise?"

Not such an odd request coming from Mab. Cautious and manipulative, if she had a weakness she would undoubtedly keep such hidden form all, even Maeve and Mother Winter. "Thrice bound," I answered. "By my vow, it won't pass my lips, even upon death."

Mab regarded me quietly, as if judging my worth or some similar sentiment. Her eyes held nothing, her arms crossed delicately behind her back in a relaxed pose. "Do you know of the purpose of the Knights, Childe?"

"I've been told some things." I nodded. "Assisting the Queens in maintaining balance, and when a Queen can't act directly, the Knights are used."

"Hmm, but these are simple things. Not at all what they were meant for." Mab's eyes stared off into the distance as she spoke evenly. "They were meant as release for the Queens Who Is."

"Release…?" I questioned.

"Indeed, the power of the Knights comes from within we, the Queens. The power itself is that of our court. A kinetic manifestation of our ways of life."

"I… hadn't known that…"

"Few do," she replied. Measures, we have taken to conceal this knowledge. But for all the gain, there must be loss."

"So what are the downsides, then?"

Mab frowned tightly, speaking slowly and reluctantly, "We are bound at the deepest level to the power. When it becomes too great, it affects us, changes us."

"So the knights release that power, logically, through a connection to one of the queens," I answered. "Because I doubt any mortal would survive a direct connection to a power like that."

"Very much so," Mab answered calmly. "But not from one, but all three. That is why they serve all three. The Knight's connection is, like that of our power, bound closest to She who is, myself in this case." She waved a hand towards a small stream winding into the trees in the distance. "Like a river, it flows through us; waxing and waning between Mother, Daughter, and Childe."

"Ok, so that sort of makes sense. So where do the Knights come into that equation?"

"Our power is as primeval as that of the river. As the river flows and floods, the Knight is to be a guardian, constantly vigilante for the Queen's safety."

"To, as your explanation puts it, take the burden of the flooding river's power and divert it away from the Queen," I summed up.

"Hmm," she nodded. "But quite a bit more complex. Regardless, the more active a knight, the more power is diffused, and the less the Queens are affected."

"What kind of affects?" I was curious.

"They … are difficult to explain, and not even we, whom wield its might, know of their extent." Mab paused, gathering her words as I watched her cautiously. "It is… It is as I have told you, a kinetic manifestation of everything the Winter Court is, was, and will be."

"So, one could assume so much of it would … what?" I wondered aloud. "Inflict mental changes? Physical?"

"Both have been noted. Quite some time ago, when I was but a child myself, I remember She Who Is purposefully retaining her power, enabling her to freeze objects on touch." Mab smiled fondly. "I, as Queen of Air and Darkness, would perhaps become swifter than gales, and as misleading and unseen as the wind itself. But with such benefits comes the price, aggression, a lack of caution, unpredictability even to myself."

I stared at her for long minutes, pondering her words. Mab was already dangerous and far more powerful than anything I had fought in my life. To have such changes wrought in her, it was unthinkable, the damage and harm she could cause. The damage she could do to her court, the mortal world, and to herself. And that made me realize something.

"I see now, I think," I told her, a glare set in place. "You aren't necessarily as interested in me as you are in protecting yourself."

"Have I made effort to hide such a fact, dear Harry?" Mab questioned pleasantly. "You are quite cunning and intelligent, and can accomplish much, when given time to plot. I've no intention of enslaving you, or stopping you from your work; it is not in my best interest.

"To ease your qualms, my interest in you is your insistence upon ... doing the right thing, I believe you put it. To place my power with you would place it into a regular circulation. I am free of its effects, and you are gifted power for your desires."

So now what? What choice could I make, knowing I could damn a lot of people to trouble? Knowing I could help Susan, working for Winter, could I turn them down? Could I really accept knowing I could possibly alienate some of the closest friends I've ever made?

I suppose I only had one choice.

"That … thing," I spoke slowly, "that Mother Winter gave me, the Unravelling. If I did accept, would I be able to earn another from her?"

"Such bargains are betwixt Mother Winter and your person."

Yeah, I hated stacked decks too.


	2. Winter's Rise

My apartment was not the kind of place you would expect a woman like Mab to be. It was, for the most part, a basement renovated to be an apartment. The outside of the building it was in was crumbling ever so slowly as time passed, and the inside wasn't fairing much better.

My living room was also attached to a kitchenette, and there was only one door. It led to my not so regal bedroom and behind a door therein, my bathroom. Locked and warded, there was also a trap door that led to a sub-basement, my lab. My lab contained various tables and shelves, and a skull that wasn't really just a skull, and a fairly open space for rituals and circles of various natures.

The not-a-skull was Bob, an air spirit who had a memory a thousand times better than most humans could ever hope for. Convincing him to work could be a chore some times, but you'd be hard pressed to find a better partner.

Mab was the exact opposite of my apartment. She was nothing less than stunning. Her hair was as white as the finest marble or freshly fallen snow, and was bound up loosely. Her slender, pale skinned throat drew the eyes, and managed to lead them to the tastefully exposed cleavage of her generously sized breasts. They were pressed together and hidden behind a white-blue gown of what I guessed to be Victorian design. She stood, glancing distastefully at the small, but tidy home of mine.

"Mab," I greeted as I finished buttoning the white silk shirt I wore.

"Dear Harry," she greeted as she strolled to me, voice coolly jovial, as if greeting old family. Placing a delicate hand on one side of my cheek, she twisted and turned it, observing me with all the dedication of an aunt. "My, childe, with some effort, you clean up marvelously."

I grunted in response. "I take it you've arranged whatever ceremony you needed."

"Always business." She tsked. "Aye, childe, it is ready. I must advise you that your manners must be minded at all times."

"For Slate," I all but spat the name, "a stretch, but I'm certain I can manage."

Mab leveled a cold gaze upon me. "No, not for the mortal. The need for such a ceremony has not been needed for a great many a year. Few Knights have turned upon their court."

"So," I asked with slight confusion, "what is so special about this then?"

"Such is the cycle of life; such is the cycle of our court." Mab spoke cryptically. "To create, first we must destroy. A great gathering is planned to celebrate the coming of the new, and Winter and her allies shall see the fall of old."

"The new must… wait what?" I asked confused.

Mab pursed her lips in displeasure. "The act is very much pointless. It is the symbolism behind such acts that strike a cord in the heart of my people. Since our courts ascension to their place of power, it has been tradition. Traitors are captured and punished, and what passes closest to a hero is honored and celebrated."

"And you aren't big on forgiveness," I muttered. "So I can only expect one punishment to be doled out; execution?"

"Should that be your choice," Mab told me before giving me a cruel and almost hungry smile. "But as tradition stands, it is for the Knight to decide. Should you decide a more … extreme… display is needed, none would stay your hand."

"How ...considerate of them," I answered slowly. The idea of killing Slate was bad enough, but doing worse was… something I hadn't considered. "So were you present at Summer's gathering to announce Fix as their Knight?"

"I was," she admitted, "amongst the other Courts. It would have been rude had the Winter Queens not shown."

"Err… I hadn't realized there were other courts," I told her truthfully. "I mean," I amended, "I knew about Summer, Winter, and the Wyldfae but not really…" I trailed off.

Mab started at me and not quite at me with not really vacancy, but with little emotion. "I had forgotten," she spoke slowly and with what seemed an effort to not chide me on my ignorance, "that mortals were too young in life to remember the Old Courts."

"Old Courts?" I questioned.

Mab's eyes focused sharply on me. "Take care to listen well as I despise repeating myself. Nigh fourscore millennia or longer ago, Summer and Winter were united under a single banner, as were all Sidhe courts. The Sidhe Court of Tuatha dé Danann."

"I…" I began slowly, thinking back on stories I had heard, "I've heard something about them. Old Irish stories, I think. I don't remember the entire thing too clearly, but I think they said the Danann were driven underground by … someone. Conquered maybe."

"Wyldfae," Mab purred. "Sidhe who are of no Court that long for the days of old, telling tales of the glorious King. King Finvarra of the Tuatha dé Danann was known to be kind but efficient in his rule. He gained his throne when Summer and Winter were Vassals. He was, and is, hailed as the greatest of Sidhe."

"A real powerhouse then?"

"Not in the way you think it," Mab answered absently. "He was beautiful, charismatic, and able to sway many of the Sidhe courts to him. Those who remained in opposition chose neutrality against such a large force."

"So what happened? Why the split if everyone was so buddy-buddy?"

"As all things, Finvarra perished. A century passed and peace was maintained for respect of his rule, but it degraded quickly "War broke between the courts, consuming us; many lost to us forever. Summer was the first to gain advantage, Winter not long after, and all other courts became trivial in nature to us."

"That's something," I answered, genuinely interested. "What was that, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I know not of how Summer gained their power, but within my own fortress, Arctis Tor, the Queen of her time found power in its walls. Truth of its origin is lost even to us, but our heart has remained there of respect to our foremother's sacrifices."

"Oh," I sighed, fussing with the sleeves of my silk shirt.

"Well, we needn't keep the guests waiting, need we, my childe?"

----

Originally, I had assumed any festival Mab was holding would be at Arctis Tor, her fortress within the heart of Winter. It seemed, in hindsight, a rather moronic assumption. Arctis Tor was Winter's heart, the seat of power within the Unseelie Sidhe court. To display all of her defenses to any number of possible enemies was outright foolishness. Mab may not have been the most subtle when she tilted her hand to show power, but she was by no means a fool.

Instead, I was lead into Undertown, back to the aging hotel I had first met Maeve in. I was left in a room upon one of the upper floors to wait for the guests while final preparations were made. Straight from the Roaring Twenties; the room I was left in was well kept. A desk adorned one corner, with an armoire in another; both of solid, sturdy woods of a pale color with a cherry finish added. Deep maroon carpet covered the floor and a comforter of matching color lay atop pale rose sheets. Off white wallpaper splattered with varying shades of red flower patterns was pasted to the wall. And all of it sat at an odd angle due to the slant of the old building.

I had spent nearly an hour of idleness when a young woman arrived. She was a pretty young thing, subtly so. Blue highlighted black tresses fell to her shoulders while dark blue almond shaped eyes gazed uncertainly at the floor. "Mr. Dresden," her timid voice called, folding her hands in front of her and giving a respectable bow. "My name is Trista; I'm to act as your escort for the evening. If it pleases you, sir, we may proceed to the gallery."

I raised an eyebrow at her slightly. "Escort? Not to be rude, miss, but that won't be necessary."

"Please, Mr. Dresden," she answered with such a minuscule amount of pleading in her voice I thought it was my imagination, "Lady Maeve insists. She would be displeased if I neglected my duty."

"Oh, err…" I muttered. Maeve displeased wasn't anything you'd want. Last time I had seen someone make her angry was Lloyd Slate, the man I was replacing. He had been charged with obtaining Elaine's blood and failed. It earned him a rather nasty looking knife wound of his own. And for as much as I knew Maeve or understood how she thought, I could guess she wouldn't care, even if I had turned the girl, Trista, away. Manipulative bitch, she probably was counting on that, meaning I'd have to watch my back with the girl, more than likely.

"Well, I suppose it's alright then," I told her calmly. "And you can call me Harry, if you like."

"That's very generous," she smiled softly, genuinely, "but my position forbids me those kinds of familiarities."

I gave a light shrug as I brushed a hand over my clothes to smooth them. "Shall we go then?" I offered.

The hallways were just as fashionable and odd as the rooms. The same odd tilt made walking to the stairs an uphill journey. While I tended to avoid modern elevators, I suspected these older models would have survived my mood swings. It was just a pity that the tilt left them useless.

It was a rather nicely designed building, though. Nice, real wood trimming at the ceiling and floor, with a cherry finish. At the end of the large selection of hallway my room was located in sat two tables. Small, decorative ferns that had slid slightly off center, but still accented the stretch nicely sat precariously on them. The same red flowered, off white wallpaper ran down each wall seamlessly.

Trista stayed a step in front of me, fidgeting with her deep purple dress, as she led me to the main stairs. She kept her eyes forward but down slightly and her arms were folded in front of her, nearly protectively. She looked healthy enough, though. I wondered if it was because of what Maeve may or may not have done.

"So," I started casually, "If you don't mind my asking, how did someone like you end up mixed up with the Sidhe and Maeve?"

"Umm," she answered softly, "I made a bargain with Maeve. I ended up as part of my Lady's collection."

I looked at her for a moment. "What could you possibly have wanted so much you'd sell yourself to Maeve?"

She flushed red, from embarrassment I expect. "Uh… that's kind of personal. But I had to. It was just too much and Maeve offered me a solution."

Ah, I understood somewhat. She was young, probably no more than twenty. Pressure from her parents, school, or even her friends probably got to be too much. "Magic isn't a cure all, you know," I told her kindly. "Most times it's better to do it yourself, and more rewarding."

I thought I saw her smile somewhat bitterly. "Maybe," she muttered. "Maybe for someone like you who can do what you do with your natural talent. But I couldn't do it without Maeve." She paused at a large set of double doors. "This is it, Mr. Dresden."

The doorway that led down into the ballroom didn't actually have any doors, or hinges. It stood wide enough that you could probably fit four into its place, though. Just beyond stood a pair of girls looking to be in their early teens, one on either side. They had cool eyes and looked remarkably alike. They smiled sweetly, eyes fluttering as they fell upon me. I noticed Trista recoil just slightly and fall a step behind me. "The Queens Winter beg you remember your manners, Mr. Dresden," Trista imparted in as quiet and neutral a voice as she could manage. "You are representing Winter."

As I stepped down onto the first of three steps, the two young girls stepped forward and called in the sweetest, most beautiful voices I had ever heard, "It pleases Winter Court to announce this evening's guest of honour; Knight Harry Dresden, and guest." The voice had a heavenly quality to it, in an odd way. It seemed to flow over and through your entire body. It touched nerves that voices don't.

"Harry," a voice called, and I felt a slight push from behind. My eyes found my escort frowning in concern. When I turned back to the woman on my left, she smiled innocently. I coughed lightly and continued forward as polite applause rang out in the glamorous room.

"Sirens," Trista pointed out helpfully. "Gifts from the Merewiper court, I think." I watched her nod to a tall, lithe Sidhe on the far side of the room. Her dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, keeping the appearance of being wet. Her eyes, which looked brown as well from my vantage point, gazed curiously at me as I watched her. "Lady Lorelei is fascinated with them. She is a kind woman, but a little narcissistic and has a short temper. What I can gather of her, she thinks sirens are the only creature in Nevernever fit to entertain her vocally."

"Sounds charming," I retorted dryly.

"Honestly," Trista voiced in her quiet tone, "she is, just…"

"Slightly full of herself?" I ventured.

She flushed a little. "Yeah, something like that."

As she lapsed into silence a moment I took the time to look around. The room was huge and had a large number of people present. Dozens of tables were laid out, vastly expensive cutlery set out for use. None of it, I noticed, was metallic. The glasses and plates were a clear crystalline make and the eating utensils were of an odd polished stone. At first I thought it was marble, but it seemed a bit off to be that. White and blue swirls curled around one another in the finely carved pieces.

The tables were covered in a simple white cloth that still seemed to suit the tastefully extravagant room. Every table had a clear glass vase filled with water and flowers I vaguely recognized as lilies, but not much more. Each vase held three of the two breeds. One of them was a vivid orange color with pinkish purple splotches branching out from the center. Its opposite had the same pinkish purple splotches, but was primarily white. Somehow they seemed to complement one another and represented both Winter and Summer.

Trista politely rested a hand on my arm from behind me as she leaned forward to whisper. "If you're admiring the flowers, they are Panther and Japanese Lilies, if I recall. They're more than likely gifts from Meliboea."

Not a name I could recognize, but then my knowledge of fae was limited. "I'm not sure I know of her," I whispered back.

"She's a Summer Sidhe, I think. She is mostly seen in their territory anyway." She paused thoughtfully. "She has, from what I've heard, a strange magic. Botanomancy or something similar to that, I think. It does some strange things to plants. Like these, more vivid in color and will live probably close to six months even cut from the plant."

"Interesting."

The escort nodded. "Vaguely. Nothing like someone like me could accomplish. And they are very beautiful, in an artistic sense."

"You're a practitioner then?"

I watched her hesitate from the corner of my eye as she licked her lips. "Somewhat. I got the visit from the White Council and the explanation of the laws when I was seventeen, but not strong enough to be given admittance to their precious club."

I snorted in amusement. "Take it from me, you aren't missing much." She smiled slightly and left me to finish my examination of the room.

The floor, rather than being carpeted, was a dark, hard wood. Near the head of the ballroom there was a raised stage-like platform that had two separate tables set on it. Each of the four seats was positioned to face outward, watching over the crowd. In between the two raised tables was a rather large empty area. It didn't take genius to devise that this was the spot Mab expected my 'performance' to take place at.

And as hard as I looked, moving through the growing sea of bodies, I couldn't find my hostess anywhere. I could easily find Maeve, surrounded by bodies, in her white flowing dress laughing delightedly. My eyes lingered on her body far longer than I am comfortable admitting, given the very young looks she still bore. Lily, the new Lady of Summer, stood nervously beside her Queen, dressed as regal as the High Sidhe. Beside her was man on any other day I would have assumed a woman. Dressed very much like a high court official of olden days, the feminine man stood with pride. On his shoulder stood a rather good sized bird of some kind, decorated in reds and blues. He was chatting rather enthusiastically with the Summer Queen Who Is. But Titania's presence shone above all others. She hovered amid an aura of grace and beauty, a gold and white gown of silk and satin that looked made only for her, accentuated her every curve.

Titania was as stunning as her daughter, Aurora, and many of the Sidhe. When you looked at Aurora and her; you couldn't deny the relation. Her hair was as purely white, and eyes nearly the same violent green cat-like of Aurora's, but held a certain softer quality. Her face was formed of soft curves that even Aphrodite would kill for. Delicate pale neck dropped into the golden gown that hid her voluminous chest. Long, slender fingers gently held the crystal glass to rose coloured lips. Her eyes fell on me as her male counterpart dipped away to refresh her glass. In an instant quicker than I fully grasped, her soft features tensed and her eyes flashed golden anger. I could see the depths of her power in that instant, and it was nothing reassuring. She was the Queen Who Is of Summer. I could possibly be an equal to Maeve or Lily if I had the Knights Power, but even with that, I doubted there was any power I could hold that would protect me if she truly wanted me dead. And worse was Sidhe tended toward subtlety; I'd never see the knife till it was firmly between my ribs.

----

"Ah," a sensuous voice purred from behind. "Am I given the honor to finally meet the young and virile Harry Dresden?"

Hooded violet eyes shimmered in lazy concentration while her shining black tresses fell gracefully around her, covering her bosom. Each of the radiant woman's fingers was decorated with gleaming, magnificent jewels. A small jewel even twinkled from its place at her waist as it held up two knee length white cloths. The makeshift loincloth was all that hid the superb woman from the prying eyes of those around her. It hid her, but left nothing to the imagination as all of her long, tanned legs were exposed. She seemed, to me anyway, to be wearing some sort of perfume. It was … something like home. Musky old books and the scent of fresh cut grass and long rainy nights.

"I…" My eyes were no doubt wide as they drank in the dark beauty before me. "Hello…"

Trista, my escort for the evening, shifted nervously as her hand pressed lightly into the small of my back. "Mr. Dresden," her quiet voice whispered in my ear, barely recognizable over the noise. "This is the Countess of the Urvaci Court, Aspara." Trista treated the Sidhe countess with the respect her station demanded, but only as much as was necessary.

"Countess," I greeted evenly, with a bit of trepidation. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Nay," the countess chuckled. "The pleasure is my own, Knight Dresden. The Leanansidhe speaks so highly of you. And I am such a naturally curious woman that I could hardly resist approaching."

I paused at the name, not put at ease at all. "You know Lea?" Aspara hummed her assent and nodded. "Would you consider me rude if I asked how?"

"Not at all, pet." She smiled and sipped from a golden liquid. "The Leanansidhe was my master, a good many centuries ago. She apprenticed me, and taught me much which opened my path to Countess of my Court."

Curious, I studied her for a moment. "I hadn't known Sidhe were in the habit of apprenticing outside of their own court. You know," I waved a hand vaguely, "secret court spells and all that."

"It is far more common than you would realize," she answered politely, sipping her drink. "The Ellyllon Court of Storm Sidhe is quite well known for their gifting the Queens of Winter and Summer with their powers to summon the wrath of the heavens."

That was an interesting bit to know, I mused, as I watched the various Sidhe wandering from gathering to gathering. "But I thought they could do that anyway," I answered, adding, "You know… without help and all."

"Oh it is well within Mab's power to do so, Wizard. Just as it is in your power to throw fire and call the north winds." Aspara's voice hung in the air like a scent. It was more a gentle wafting than the reverberating echo I acquainted with Mab. "But like you, without proper knowledge, such spells turn upon their caller. The Ellyllon gave them the secrets of control, much like your master imparted onto you."

"I see," I mused to her. "Not that I mean to say I don't believe you, but that just doesn't sound like Sidhe to me. Giving away something like that? And for nothing?"

"The Ellyllon did not give such precious knowledge free, Dresden." Her violet eyes glittered in the dim light, as Sidhe mingled and danced about the room. "Peace, during a time when Winter and Summer clashed so blatantly, was their price. The eyes of the last two great Courts were turned away and the Ellyllon left to their mountain hallows."

"What about you?" I questioned, "What did you give Lea?"

"Much," she answered calmly, her smile dimming slightly, "friendship, an ally. But the true depths of my bargain are my own, Wizard, and such subjects are not spoken of in public. A rudeness of great offense, it is considered."

"My sincerest apologize then, Countess."

She waved away the apology with a well kept hand. "There is no need for such a thing, Knight. But let us move on to a much more fascinating subject. Tell me, how is it that you've come to know the Leanansidhe?"

"She's my godmother," I answered reluctantly, sliding past a rather large man. "My mother knew her probably."

"Probably? Are you not sure?"

"Relatively," I told her uncomfortably, before turning to my escort. "Trista, would you mind getting me a drink?" The blue eyed girl hesitated a moment, but seemed to understand what I was asking. Black and blue hair bounced lightly as she nodded and turned, vanishing into the sea of bodies.

"Ah, such a bothersome fly," Aspara hummed discontentedly, "a blessing to be rid of her." I gave the Sidhe countess a cool look, pursing my lips, but letting her quip pass. "But let us continue, hmm? One would wonder that if you were the Leanansidhe's godchild, then why do you not have a closer relationship?"

"Our relationship is as close as it can be, all things considered," I admitted. "I've always been told Sidhe don't recognize love, hate, and those kinds of things like humans do."

"Perhaps we do not feel them as you do, but we do indeed recognize them." Honey hued liquid swirled in her crystal glass as she spoke over the buzzing chatter of the room. "Most, though, feel they are ... bankable commodities. Things to be bartered with mortals."

"How so?"

"Take Prince Aengus and his own court, the Dagda, there." The man she pointed to was the sandy haired Sidhe that I had seen conversing with Titania. "The Dagda trade mortals whom are in love. Most it is simply to create an illusion of love in the object of their consumer's affections, or obsession, whichever the case may be."

"Compulsions and enthrallments on innocent people," I answered.

"Aye, deplorable as it is, that is their most common form of business. Though it is rare with as few wizardlings being taught of the lesser courts. Rarer are Aengus himself dealing with mortals. He seems to have only an interest in punishing those who have scorned their lovers."

"Something acquired through previous experiences, I can assume."

"It is within the realm of possibilities," the countess mused, "but most don't know where his desire comes from. He tends to keep such failings secret."

"Ah, I see," I murmured, turning to focus on her. "What about you?"

Violet eyes seemed alive with something I couldn't identify as she spoke. "We Urvaci prefer simpler methods. The Dagda create illusions of what they want. Urvaci tend towards seduction, fanning the fires of lust. Illusions are but temporary falsehoods. I and mine prefer the real."

"I... suppose I could understand that," I spoke slowly, watching a pair of Sidhe dance across the room. "It would be more rewarding to earn something like that, than to create it."

"Yes," she whispered, barely audible over the crowd. Her smile shifted from its confident laziness to a hungry and seductive smirk. My heart skipped several beats seeing it. "It is, Knight. And it is earning such … rewards," she placed a hand gently on one of my own, "that makes it so appealing to me."

"Err, you know," I told her, trying to find something else to look at, "if I weren't already attached to someone; that would almost be tempting. But you know us mortals," I commented nonchalantly, I hoped. "All those overly complicated ideas of monogamy and love and the like."

Aspara took a look as if looking at an amusing child rattling on about the most trivial thing they just learned. "Yes, you are such …naïve creatures. It has a sort of quaint amusement to it. But it is often the chase that is most entertaining, Knight, and not the capture itself."

"Chase? Capture? Am I only game now?" I offered sarcastically.

Aspara laughed a delightful sound as she answered without humor. "Of course. For now, at least. I may find you a curious commodity, but all of it's a game for me, dear Knight. But alas I must take leave of you now, and part with a last wish to speak again in the near future. Farewell till then, Harry Dresden."

"Uhh, yeah, farewell," I echoed, watching her slide into the mass of men and women. Turning I found Trista standing patiently at my side once more. Two crystalline glasses in her hand, the young ebony haired girl waited patiently until I focused my attention on her.

"Your presence is requested elsewhere, Mr. Dresden."

I nodded slowly. "Lead on, then," I offered, gesturing vaguely.

----

The feast had been a grand affair, with a great many delicacies presented in majestic fashions. The large swine that had been served that I had mistaken as a simple pig was actually clay baked boar. Stringy and a bit salty, the dish had retained quite a bit of flavor and moisture. The old fashioned method of cooking had left a succulent dish that was all around scrumptious. A good variety of what was served on the side had consisted mainly of vegetables. Baguette of Root; a large loaf of bread stuffed to burst with steamed vegetables, for example. Char grilled salmon was served as well; dressed in a watercress sauce and garnished with lemon.

True to her character, Mab had spared little expense when she had arranged such dishes. With the wide variety she had offered, I doubted even the pickier of the Sidhe would have trouble finding something to their tastes. From the motherly Lady Áine; who refused to eat any meat, to Taliesin, the Lord of the Grael; whom had a preference to soups of a murkier nature.

During the course of the hour long meal, I learned a good deal of the politics in the room from Mab. Like Áine of the Knockaine court. From the description, I got the picture she the motherly sort of Sidhe, but one with a fierce temper and great pride. Mab had even mentioned that after an …uninvited child, she had used her magic to seal the boy beneath a loch out of shame.

There was also a minor dispute on the borders of Magh Mell, the Nevernever territory of Winter, with the Búanann, Summer's Amazonian Sidhe warrior clans. I wasn't too certain on the details and I suspect Mab would have downplayed her own involvement, but apparently someone had vandalized and pillaged several villages in Magh na Anú. The various raids had happened over the course of a year and left three entire sects without food or shelter.

Having taken as much of the intricate political affairs of the Sidhe as I could, I excused myself to find a new drink and take care of something that had been on my mind for most of the night; squaring up as best as I could with Queen Titania. I found the alluring woman in the lobby with a centaur standing at her side patiently. A golden yellow cloak fluttered over her shoulders as she prepared to make her exit for the evening.

"Ah..." I huffed slightly. "Queen Titania!"

Glowing green turned to me and narrowed in the slightest sense, anger barely visible for a moment before vanishing. I could see the centaur guard tense slightly, hands ready to draw the rather large sword at his side in an instant. "Knight," her voice was as melodic and cool as a Summer's breeze.

I bowed slightly to the Sidhe queen. "Please forgive my imposing behavior," I let out slowly, mentally composing what I felt I needed to say. "But I ... There is something I needed to say to you..."

"Make haste please, young Knight," her voice was gentle but restrained "The night grows old and I wear of it."

I ... how do you apologize for killing a woman's daughter and not come off sounding ... empty? You don't, I suppose, but I had to. Aurora wasn't truly evil or bad or other such nonsense. Maybe a little off at times, but she had a good heart. She did what she felt was right for her people, consequences be damned. I could respect that. But I couldn't just sit and let her wipe out humanity to do it.

"I ... wanted to ..." I was never one for these kinds of things, you know? My father and Ebenezer were great role models, but I spent a lot of time with Justin too. Probably that time when most grow and evolve emotionally. Maybe I'm stunted, in that sense?

"I wanted to express my condolences and apologize for Aurora." I could see, just barely, her lips tighten. "I know you probably won't believe me, but I never wanted Aurora to die. She was... a good person in heart, but I had to do something. My kind was in danger and it would have been... wrong... if I hadn't done anything."

Titania stared at me for a quiet moment, eyes swirling with restrained power. "Sidhe put little stock in your mortal concepts of morality, Dresden." When she spoke, it was considerably colder than I had seen of Summer. "But we share one thing in common; our bond to our children." In a quick instant, Queen Titania stood barely a few inches from me. The stare she had leveled upon me felt like it fell beyond flesh and bone and saw only the soul. It was unnerving and entirely unpleasant.

"You took from me what is most sacred to me," the Queen's melodic voice seemed to pulse with displeasure. "And the hollow words of a fool are what I am penanced?"

I blinked; my lips dry and body suddenly itching. "I ... no, that's not what I ... just wanted..." I ran a hand over my face and my tongue over my lips. "I wanted to show you I am truly sorry for what happened, Queen Titania," I told her, trying to maintain an even tone. "If retribution is what you want, I offer it freely. Anything I have you desire is yours, if it's what you want; my life, my power, anything."

Green orbs glimmered in the reflecting light as a thoughtful pout at rose red lips. "Your life is without value, Mortal. You would have long since broken before I found end of your atonement. Nay, Mortal. You desire forgiveness?" I nearly shuddered at the feelings playing up and down my spine from her singsong voice. It was also surprising when I felt her pale, soft fingers drape gingerly across my chin and turn my eyes to meet the vibrant green. "Then find me your best of Winter's thralls. Sire me a daughter of her." A smirk tugged lightly at her, reminding me that Winter wasn't the only court capable of cruelty. "And upon the eve of her ascension to womanhood, bring her to me. And before all of Summer, bleed her as you did my own." She finished with a thoughtful pause; lips still a rosy red smiling smirk.

I... I couldn't deny that I didn't know if she was serious in her request or not. I never dealt much with Summer Court before, so I couldn't say positively that the whole first born child thing was an eccentricity of Winter or of Sidhe by nature. But is that really the point at the moment? A very powerful woman; one who has legions of devoted servants, one who could destroy my very existence with so little effort and still not need kill me; asked for the life of my daughter as if it were so simple. How could anyone willingly do something like that? Could I?

No. No matter how much I wanted Titania's forgiveness, I couldn't do something like that.

A derisive cluck tumbling forth from her quirked lips as I parted my own lips. And with it, I was left with only the click clack of her elegant heels meeting the floor as she strode calmly towards the exit. She looked back at me only once, gracing me with a chilling smile before touching the centaur's arm and exiting.

---

Thank to Nuhuh, Surrarin, RKOver, and anyone else im forgetting who helped me with this and all of the subsequent bullshirt ive put you through working on it.

Just to clarify some things Magh Mell is the Celtic Mythological land of the Plain of Happiness. Magh na Anu is the Plain of Anu, and I dun remember if I made that one or if it was part of Celtic myth. Almost all of the "new" sidhe you'll see are from Celtic Myth and their history inspired by them, with liberties taken by myself.

Also, following this chapter are three gift "omakes" written by Surrarin and Nuhuh. Much thanks to them.


	3. The Gradual Drop To Chaos

D: No Love for Vash. Finally finished chapter three after my host trashed what I had started earlier. It isnt anything like what I had planned before, but I'll work the minor details of what happened between Chapter Two and here into other chapters as Backstory and what not.

This is betaed very little, so excuse what mistakes you do find. Also, most of it was inspired by canon, so excuse the similarites as well. But Rest assured I've all intentions of going a different route than canon and already have a few other arcs planned out and Proven Guilty getting an entirely new plot all together. More of this Vincent here as well. And probably the revelation of who, exactly, he is.

So without further ado: The Chapter that almost Never was:

----

"Lah-REE, Lah-REE, Lah-REE!"

I tried to smile at Mortimer through the thick makeup and overwhelming heat of the spotlights. Behind the audience's chant of the host's name, the show's theme played its monotonous tune as camera lights winked into life. I could hardly see beyond the glaring lights hanging from the ceiling.

Not the ideal place to meet a contact, but Mortimer Lindquist had refused to be seen near me on the streets. Most people wouldn't blame him, and I couldn't say I did either. I don't have the safest reputation in the world, you see. From the Loup-Garou three years prior to a near end-of-the-world war between the faerie courts just a year ago, I was the center of more of Chicago's heavy hitting supernatural shitstorms than nearly all other wizards were.

Porcelain white smile plastered on his face as he appeared in the studio's rear door, the show's host, Larry Fowler, shook the hands of dozens of seated fans as he made his way to the stage. He was a short man, dressed in a faultless suit. Beneath my jacket and shirt, I could feel sweat dripping as the noise of the whistling and hooting crowd set me on the edge of my seat. It was enough to make me consider jumping up and running to the hills.

But it wasn't like I had stage fright or anything. Because I didn't. It was just way too hot on stage. My lips felt dry, and I had the nervous habit of licking them as I checked and rechecked all of the fire exists, just to be safe. Always good to know where they were in case you needed to break a hasty exit. The noise and lights made it hard to concentrate as it was, and I had felt my spell wobble twice already. Never could tell what would happen if it did manage to break up and start wreaking havoc on the electronics around me.

Mortimer sat in the chair beside me, a polite smile on his face, but muttered, "You okay?" He was a near-fifty dumpy, balding man dressed in a suit that looked a lot better than mine.

"Yeah," I answered, "But I've been in burning buildings I liked more…"

He frowned as Fowler lingered over a young woman, whispering; "Showboat," before turning back to me. "You asked for this meeting."

"Think this will take long?" I asked, ignoring his last comment.

"Could go on for a while," he answered nodding discreetly at an empty chair beside me and another to his side. "They tend to shoot extra footage and just edit it down to the best bits. And two surprise guests?" He shrugged in a what-you-going-to-do fashion.

I sighed. Mort had been on shows like this before. I had even been on Fowler's show once before; just after I'd gone into business. It had probably been the worse of my fledgling career. I'd had to struggle with the ill-renowned name I'd gained from my time on the show.

"What'd you find out?" I asked, pushing away bad memories.

Mort's eyes flicked nervously at me, "Not much." I began to push for more, when he cut me off. "Not now, wait for commercial."

I grunted, put out, and turned to look towards Larry Fowler prancing up to us, shaking a hand with each, before he turned to the crowed with his handheld mic. "Welcome to the show," he bellowed in exagerated cheer as I turned a disappointed look at Mortimer for his equally-false enthusiasm. The balding man simply shruged.

"Our topic today is 'Witchcraft and Wizardy – Phoney or Fabulous?' With us in order to share views is medium and psychic counselor, Mortimer Lindquist." A polite applause drifted from the crowed at his mention. "And beside him, Harry Dresden, Chicago's only professional wizard." I received the same polite response, though there was some snickering mixing in.

I couldn't say it was shocking. Hardly anyone believed in the supernatural anymore. It was more comfortable to rest knowing that vampires were only real in the movies, that demons were just dysfunctions, and that it wasn't possible to quietly kill you from miles away. Something as terrifying as a werewolf had to be a makeup trick or some computer generated model.

It was completely wrong, but it was much more appealing.

And despite the relative levels of denial, my face heated up. Something from my youth; I hated to be laughed at. The old ache adding to the dancing nervousness made it that much more difficult to hold the suppression spell.

See, in spite of snide comments questioning my sanity, and not-so-hidden snickers, I really am a wizard. It wasn't just drummed up stories and fanciful hoaxes to get a name for myself, I really could do magic. I'd already started a wizard-vampire war, and have summoned up a demon or two. To be fair to Chauncy, though, he wasn't such a bad demon after he finished all of his showmanship. There were just laws demonic beings had to follow, and he was only doing his job. I'd earned a lot of scars to show for all of it too.

The problem was that technology didn't play well with magic. Get a wizard worth is salt around and computers start crashing, light bulbs burn out, and car alarms start blaring for no damned reason. I'd worked out a spell that suppressed my magic though, at least temporarily, so I'd have a chance to show up and not blow out the lights or cameras and not get the fire alarms going.

I was never good with the difficult, delicate stuff, and by luck that's what the suppression spell was. But so far so good. Only the nearest cameraman had been affected so far; wincing and jerking his headset away from his ear as whining feedback sounded minutely from the earpiece.

I closed my eyes and with concentration, reined in my discomfort and embarrassment. The feedback died away as I managed to wrestle the spell back under control.

"Now," Larry said, after his idle chat was finished, "Morty, you've been on the show several times before. Would you remind us a little about what you do?"

Theatrically, Mortimer's eyes widen and in a stage whisper, answered, "I see dead people." The audience laughed.

"But seriously. Mostly, I conduct séances, Larry. "I do what I can to help those who have lost a loved one or who need to contact them in the beyond in order to resolve issues left undone in life. I also offer prediction services to help clients make important decisions on upcoming issues and to warn them against any dangers."

"Really," Larry answered, "could you give us a demonstration?"

In the same showman's exaggerated method, Mort closed his eyes and rested the fingers of his right hand directly between his eyes and answered in a hollow voice, "The spirits tell me … two more guests will arrive soon." As the audience laughed, he gave them an easy grin and nodded at them. He knew how to play a crowd well.

Larry gave him a tolerant, easy smile. "And why are you here today?"

"Well, I just wanted to raise public awareness about the psychic and the paranormal. Almost eighty percent of Americans stated they believe in the existence of spirits and ghosts. I want to help the people understand that these entities do exist. And help those who've had strange and inexplicable encounters understand and cope with them."

"Thank you, Morty. And Harry – May I call you Harry?"

"Sure," I tried to answer casually and comfortably, relaxing back into my cushy chair. "You're nickel."

Fowler's smile turned brittle. "Can you tell us a little about what you do?"

"I'm a wizard," I told him bluntly. "I find lost articles, investigate paranormal episodes, and train people who find themselves with the sudden onset of their own powers."

Which was technically true; it had been, and still was, the list of services printed in my phonebook advert. About a year ago I had signed on with the Winter Court of the Sidhe as the Knight of the three queens, though. And that had opened a lot of new avenues of work. The Knight's arrangement had left me in more of a Jack-of-All-Trades position. I was a sort of bounty hunter, hire thug, negotiator, and executioner all in one; though I hadn't had to fill the last part of that yet, thankfully.

But it hadn't stopped the three Queens from using me in any other facility though. Three months after my appointment, Maeve had decided a rival company to one of her mortal … acquaintances was far too aggressive in their negotiations and required a talking to. Being that Maeve was one of the Queens, the youngest, she'd had to abide by the laws that govern such high positions; in this case, she was barred from interfering with mortal affairs that had no connection to the Winter Court. No one in the in crowd knew about me being the newest Knight, so it was just a common assumption I had been paid to deal with the matter.

It had hurt my reputation though. Business was terribly slow recently because most of those who would have come weren't quite sure of how to deal with this new persona of mine. And any newer customers eventually found out about rumors when they were looking for the right guy for the job. But money wasn't really an issue, considering Mab, middle and most powerful of the three, had arranged to have my pills taken care of. She had offered a more grandeur home and office even, but the old ones just held too many memories. Setting sentimentality aside, it made them that much safer when you look at the principals of thresholds.

"Don't you also offer consultation for the Special Investigations department of the Chicago PD?"

"Occasionally," I answered cautiously. I didn't want to draw more attention to the CPD or the SI that I had to. And the last thing either needed was to be advertised on the Larry Fowler Show. "I offer consultation to anyone who wants to enlist my services. Many police departments use the same sort of consultants when more viable leads have failed, as well."

"And why are you here today?"

"Business is slow, and your producer is paying double the standard fee," I answered with a sort of smirk.

Fowler's eyes flashed with an impatient look as the crowd gave a warmer laugh. For an instant, I could see his teeth gnashing slightly behind his smile. "No, really, Harry. Why?"

"Same reason as Morti—as Morty here," I answered, shrugging at the dumpy man. It was true as well. I'd come here to meet Mort and get some information form him, and he'd come to meet me. Like I said, he'd refused to be seen in the streets with me.

"And you claim to be able to do magic?" Larry asked.

"Mhmm," I answered with a distant nod.

"Could you show us?" He prompted.

"I could, but it probably wouldn't be practical."

Larry nodded and gave the audience a wise look. "And why is that?"

"All this equipment looks sort of expensive," I gave Fowler a grin. "And I know you're always eager to have me around your show; but that might raise the price a little too much. Not that I'm not worth it, mind you. It just seems a shame to cancel the show because I wrecked your studio equipment."

Fowler's smile jerked in place as the audience gave a half laugh. "Of course," he answered saccharinely. "We wouldn't want that, would we?" Turning away, Larry carried on with the talk part of the show, discussing crystals and ESP and similar mediums. Mort did most of the talking. I only replied when I had to, and preferably in monosyllabic answers.

Presumably, he had been given a signal for commercials, as he turned away when Mortimer finished. "We'll be right back after these announcements." Stagehands held up Applause signs as the cameras panned and zoomed over the hooting and hollering audience.

Larry gave me a last annoyed look, before storming off to the wings and tearing into one of the makeup girls over his hair. I suppressed a groan as I leaned over to Mort. "Okay. Now what did you find out?"

"I'm still getting used to contacting the dead again," the ectomancer answered with a shake of his head, "So I didn't find much. Not sure how much of what I did find is accurate, either."

"Still, you've got better connections in this area than me. Mine don't keep close track of who's died lately, so I'll take whatever I can get. Is she alive, at least?"

Mortimer nodded, "Yeah. She's in Peru."

It was relieving to know she was alive at the least, but in Peru? "That's Red Court territory?"

"Parts, though most of them are in Brazil and the Yucatan," he corrected. "I was blocked when I tried to find out exactly where she was."

"Know who was doing it?"

"Sorry, there's no way for me to tell."

"It's okay," I answered with a bland reply. "Thanks, Mort." I settled back uncomfortably to mull over the news.

Susan Rodriguez was a reporter for a regional yellow paper called the Midwestern Arcane. She'd grown interested in me just after I opened my practice. She had been relentless about hounding me for stories about the things that went bump in the night. A long story short, we had gotten involved. On our first date, she had ended up naked in a thunderstorm as lightning cooked a nasty toad-demon into more of a toad-demon stew.

A few years later, I got an invitation to a Red Court celebration, and despite my refusal to bring her, she had managed to make an appearance anyway. One of the nobles had grabbed her and she was left somewhere between human and vampire. Bianca, the noble, had done it as a means of payback. She'd thought her standing made her untouchable and that I wouldn't fight to get Susan back. I had, and in the end caused a war between the entire Red Court and the White Council.

The vampires still hadn't forgiven me for taking Susan back. Something about a bunch of them, including one noble, being incinerated in all the commotion.

I had started to look for Susan about two weeks ago when her editor called. The columns she usually sent were late and he wanted to know if I could get in touch with her. After turning up nothing, I went to Mortimer to see if any of his spirit contacts would have better luck. It wasn't much, but at least now I knew she was alive.

I looked up when the theme started to play again, Fowler walking back on stage. The squealing of the speakers made me realize my control had slipped and my suppression spell had nearly fall. It was a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be, and only getting harder. When I had managed to squash it back into place, they quieted to an occasional pop.

"Welcome back to the show," Larry's cheerful voice echoed in the speakers. "Today we're talking with practitioners of the paranormal, who've come to share their views with the studio audience and the viewers at home. In order to explore these issues in depth, I've invited two experts of opposing viewpoints to join us, and here they are."

The audience applauded politely as the two emerged from either side of the studio.

The first, who sat in a chair beside Morty, was a little over average height and thin. His skin hand been turned to a tanned leather by the sun. His clean-cut hair was short and graying. He could have been forty or sixty for his appearance. The black suit he wore was adorned with a clerical white collar sharing space with a rosary and crucifix.

Outwardly, there was absolutely nothing odd about the older man, but when he nodded to Mort and I, a sort of chill ran down my spine and my skin tingled vaguely with … something. But it didn't feel like something dangerous, though. It was the sort of vague tingle I could feel from Michael, but different some how. It was similar to that of Michael, though seemed dulled and impersonalized. Where Michael had that aura around him in everything he did, Vincent's seemed separate from him. It was a constant, subtle force in the Knight of the Cross. The priest seemed to wear his as a part of his metaphysical attire, the same his rosary were a part of his physical attire.

"Allow me to introduce Father Vincent," Larry commented as I watched the priest carefully. "A leading scholar and researcher of the Catholic Church, both historically and from a psychological perspective, on the subject of witchcraft and magic, he's come all the way from the Vatican to be with us today. Welcome to the show Father."

His voice was a little rough, but it had the sort of cultured accent that indicated an expensive education. "Thank you, Larry. I'm pleased to be here."

The second of the men wasn't as much of a stranger to me as Father Vincent. Broad shoulders and a deep chest, his heavy build sat on an average height. In a stylish grey and silver suit, his neatly brushed black hair and dark complexion contrasted tastefully. Just his presence sent my heart form zero to sixty in a second, and fear racing down my limbs.

Emotions fuel a lot of magic; they're a sort of built in amplification system for your own natural power. The fear hit me and the strain of maintaining my suppression spell doubled and re-doubled. The operator of the nearest camera staggered back as it gave a flash of light and a puff of smoke. They'd probably have to edit out the curse he used as he threw his headset to the ground. No one heard it over the shrieking feedback from the studio monitors, though.

"And please welcome the world-renowned researcher and debunker of the supernatural, Dr. Paolo Ortega, from the University of Brazil at Rio de Janeiro."

He was also a duke of the Red Court. Smiling less than an arm's length away, was an ancient and exceptionally deadly vampire.

"Nice to meet you again, Mr. Dresden," Ortega whispered.

I swallowed nervously and fumbled for a couple of wizard gadgets I had with me for self defense. I was stopped when Ortega rested his hand on my arm in what looked like a casual gesture. And while it appeared that way, his fingers closed around my wrist like a vice. Flashes of pain stormed through my elbow and shoulder. And my luck, I noticed looking around; everyone was staring in amazement at the malfunctioning camera.

"I'm not going to kill you on television, wizard." His accent was think and vaguely Latinate. "Relax, I only wish to talk."

"Get off me," I told him in a thin and shaky voice. Damned stage fright.

He released me as the crew rolled the smoking camera back, a director type motioning to Fowler with one hand. Larry nodded and turned to Ortega. "Sorry about that. We'll edit it out later."

"It's no trouble," the vampire assured him easily.

Larry paused for a moment then continued the show, "Welcome to the show, Dr. Ortega. You've a reputation as one of the World's premier analysts of paranormal phenomena. A wide variety of so-called supernatural occurrences have been proven to be nothing but clever hoaxes by your research. Can you tell us a little about that?"

"Certainly. I've yet to find one event that cannot be explained adequately with proper investigation. Such as crop circles; they've turn out to be little more than a favored pastime for British farmers. Events may seem odd or unusual, but are by no means supernatural. Even in Chicago, you've had a rain of toads with hundreds of witnesses. And as it turned out, it was nothing more than a freak windstorm having scooped them from elsewhere and depositing them in the park they were found in."

Larry nodded with a serious expression, "Then you don't believe in such events?"

The duke's smile turned patronizing as he addressed the host. "There is too little true magic in the world, Larry. I would love to believe such fanciful tales true. But much as our hearts wish these wondrous beings and fantastic powers were real, the reality is that it's simple, primitive superstition."

"Then in your opinion, practitioners of the supernatural—"

"With no offense to current company," Ortega nodded with a polite smile, "Frauds. All of these so-called mediums, presuming they aren't merely self-deluded, are skilled actors who've acquired a fundamental grasp of human psychology and how to exploit it. The gullible are easily convinced these individuals can contact the dead, read thoughts, or that they are preternatural beings. I'm certain I could, with a few moments of effort and the right settings convince anyone in this room that I was in fact, a vampire."

---

I had just managed to get my coat from a small room used for guest makeup, keys to my old Beetle, when Ortega had appeared in the doorway. His posture wasn't outwardly hostile, though. He stood with an arm folded across his midsection, a silvery-white coat folded over it. He had an old smile, the confidence and slight arrogance that came with age and knowing his prowess at its front.

"Before you go, Mr. Dresden," the Duke said softly as he closed the door behind him. "I'd like a private word with you."

"I'm not sure that's all you want," I told him shakily, sliding my own coat on. "I'm on a schedule though, so let's make this quick."

"Indeed it is not. I've come to Chicago to kill you," his words were casual, as if talking about the latest Bears game, but the way his eyes looked made it completely clear he intended to do just as much. "But I have a proposal for you first."

"You know, Borders probably has books on beginners Negotiations pretty cheap." I tried to keep the shrug I made offhanded and casual, "I only say so, because you're technique is kind of bad."

"Dreadfully so," he admitted humorlessly. "But I'm referring to this war between our peoples, Dresden. Too many of our brethren have died for naught. It is undesirable and unprofitable to either."

"War is war, and Hell is Hell." I said. "War is the worst of the two, though."

"And this war was begun over a point of principle, by you."

"I began it over a human life."

"But how many could be saved by ending this foolishness now? The suffering it causes is not restricted to wizards alone. With so much of our attention focused upon the war, the less desirable elements of our Court remain unchecked. We frown upon reckless killing, but those of the Court who've become wounded or leaderless kill without reason or need. Ending all of this now could save hundreds, if not thousands of lives."

"Killing every vampire on the planet could, too."

"A tactic your council has not shied away from, if I recall." Ortega mused somewhat aggressively. "The Black Court's numbers have dwindled to near nothing. But that is not the point. The point, Dresden, is that neither of our people desire this senseless war. And as you are symbolically its cause to my people, all that is needed to end it is your death. Once you've been slain, The Council and the Court will accept peaceful overtures."

"You really should look into one of those books, Ortega. 'Lie down and Die' isn't much of an offer."

"I am giving you a chance to die an honorable death, Dresden. I offer you the chance to face me in single combat."

"Why the hell would I do that?" I almost barked with laughter. "I'm pretty attached to living, and the whole dying thing doesn't seem too honorable."

His neutral expression turned to one of polite regret. "Because it would mean my warriors needn't target your friends and allies. That the mortal assassins retained to eliminate a number of past clients are unnecessary. Names need not be mentioned, yes?"

Anger joined the fear that had welled in my chest. "Keep it with me if that's what you're here for. There's no reason for that."

"I agree. Such tactics are beneath us. However, the times do not allow for methods of great care and subtlety. Face me under the dueling laws of the Accord and I guarantee their safety."

"So you win, and the war ends. What happens on the odd chance I win? Am I supposed to wait around for the next hotshot Red Duke to try the same thing?"

"Defeat me," Ortega spoke in a calmly confident voice that told me he thought it was impossible for me to win, "and the Court has agreed to label the city Neutral Territory. You and your associates will be free of attack, so long as you remain here."

"Chicago-Blanca?"

"Pardon?" he inquired, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Nothing, after your time I suppose." My palms had become sweaty and my fingers gave an odd twitch as they stayed wrapped in my coat. "It's just stupid of you to fight me. Even if you manage to win, you'd have to deal with my death curse."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "A risk I am willing to bare. I am not as important as the whole of the Court."

The last thing I wanted was to stick myself with another supernatural beastie to fight, especially a dedicated, honorable, self-sacrificial loony beast. Vampires scared the hell out of me, the Red's more than the others. They had saliva as addictive as any narcotic and I'd tasted enough to wonder what another would be like. The superhuman strength and speed was annoying as well. There was an enormous yuck factor to them too.

I watched him for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes. Ortega was arrogant and confident, but not to the extremes I had come to expect from other vampires. Something in his eyes said as long as I wasn't alive, he'd care very little how it happened. Clichéd villainy at its worst, I believe he would have made due on his threats too. And it was an undeniably effective lever.

"I'd have to have it in writing. The Council gets a copy as well. All of it has to be official, by the Accords."

"Then you agree to a duel?"

I wasn't so sure I wanted to agree still, but I didn't have a choice. And it wasn't just the thought of my friends being hurt that brought the lack of a choice. Nobody knew I was the Winter Knight yet, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. And with Mab throwing in with the Council, she was already an enemy of the Reds. They weren't dumb enough to move against her though. She was Damned Powerful, capital D and P. Ortega may have been a dangerous man, but Mab made the guy look like a kid. She'd crush him like he was nothing very easily.

And if I went running off now, she'd do the same to me. An enemy of Winter intimidating the Knight? Doesn't look good, no matter how you cut it.

"Fine," I agreed reluctantly. "Get it to me in writing and you've got a deal."

With a smiling assent, the Duke nodded and left without another word. Letting out a deep breath, I ran a free hand through my hair, and fished my keys out of my pocket, where I'd placed them during the conversation. That should fill my quota for supernatural baddies ruining an otherwise terrible day.

Though the show had ended, a large number of people were still mulling around the studio. Most of the lagging crew seemed to be following some sort of general maintenance routine. Large light fixtures were being carted to the front to replace those that may have been affected by my earlier episodes.

Waiting when I arrived at the studio's exit was the thin priest, Vincent. He stood with a slight look of nervousness as he twirled the crucifix round his neck in his fingers. That vague feeling returned and I could feel it tingling more in my skin. 

"Padre," I greeted as I moved to pass.

"Mr. Dresden," Vincent replied, "If I might have a moment of your time."

"Let me guess, you didn't really come to Chicago for the show?" I retorted dryly, absently trying to rub away the feeling dancing up my arm.

"Not entirely," the priest admitted. "You must understand, that I must insist upon confidentiality, due to the nature of my problem."

I frowned and stopped rubbing my arm, "You think I'm a crackpot or a charlatan." I motioned for him to follow and took a slow pace to my old car. "So why would you want to hire me?" Not that I would turn him down. My bills may have been taken care of courtesy of the Winter Court, but any debts occurred before were mine to clear.

"An associate advised me, that you were the best investigator in Chicago for my dilemma."

I almost stopped to give him a questioning look. "You've something of the supernatural kind going on?"

"Naturally not," Vincent replied with casual skepticism. "I am not quite so naïve, Mr. Dresden. But I am told you know more of the occult community than any other investigator."

"Ah, that," I replied intelligently.

That's probably true. Though, he was talking more about the tarot card and palm reading New Age crowd that pops up in most large cities. Most of them were harmless, and some even had a small potential for true magic. Of course, your standard issue occult community comes rife with feng-shui artists, wiccans, voodoo practitioners, Santerians, a smidgen of Satanists, a couple of slightly gifted practitioners who mix religion and magic, and a whole lot of people who like wearing way too much black. But all of your generally harmless crowds have your really dangerous sorts. Occasionally, you get your sorcerer and necromancer, or even a monster or demon or two.

The types that regard a crowd the same way kids do Christmas.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who referred you, padre?"

"A local priest," Vincent answered casually. "Father Forthill, of Saint Marry of the Angels. I believe you're acquainted with him?"

Forthill didn't always agree with the whole religious scene, but he was a decent guy. He could be a bit prudish, but I liked him well enough. And that didn't have anything to do with my owing him for past favors. "Yeah, I know Father Forthill. You should have just said that in the first place."

"You'll take the case then?" Vincent asked as my old beetle crept into view.

"I'd prefer to know the details first, but if Forthill thinks I can help, I will. Standard fees apply."

"Naturally," he agreed smoothly, toying with the crucifix around his neck. "I might assume that you'll spare me the magician's palaver?"

"Wizard," I corrected absently.

"Is there a difference?" An arched eyebrow accompanied his accented skepticism.

"Certainly; Magicians perform tricks and stage magic and wizards do real magic."

"I've no need of entertainers, Mr. Dresden." The padre spoke with patient exasperation and a neutral expression. "Only an investigator."

"You don't have to believe me, padre. Just pay me and there won't be any problems." Vincent nods politely, expression unchanging as he turns towards the battered old car I stop at.

"What happened?"

The old Volkswagen Bug affectionately named The Blue Beetle had seen better days. I think it has a lot of character and individuality. It's a car that holds more value than mere materialism. Other people think it a mish-mash of a lot of replacement parts.

When it began its life, it had been entirely blue. Now, bits of green, white, and red VW's had been swapped for the damaged originals. All that kept the hood from flying open when the car was jolted was the bent piece of coat hanger wire. And I had yet to fix the front bumper form last summer's attempt at vehicular monster-slaughter.

"I hit trees."

"You drove your car into a tree?"

"Ahh.. No," I answered, glancing at him self-consciously, "plural. Trees, but they were only little ones. There might have been a dumpster too. But in my defense," I added hastily. "They all jumped out at me. Wasn't really my fault."

"Ah," he muttered in response, and I thought there might have been actual worry hidden in his face.

I unlocked the door, though I wasn't really worried about anyone stealing it. I'd had two offers to have it replaced (One from the only car thief who'd attempted to steal it, and the second from Mab, my now-permanent employer. Something so disgraceful looking was not befitting of any in Winter, she sad.) But the old bug had some sentimental value. And she had very little electrical equipment, which was a large plus.

"It'd probably be best to talk somewhere a little more private."

"Agreed," Vincent nodded. "My hotel might be best. I have some photographs and—"

I only caught the scuffing sound in time to catch sight of a gunman taking aim from behind a pair of cars a row over. The clap of gunfire and shattering glass echoed in the garage as I threw myself on over the hood, away from him. A second clap and a painful, frightened scream followed. As I tumbled down from the hood, Vincent was a second behind joining me on the ground. Blood stained the shoulder of the dark clothes he wore. 

"Are you already?" I asked quickly, inspecting his shoulder.

"I …" he stuttered, shock on his face. "I think so. What… what's going on?"

I turned away, ignoring Vincent and focusing on the gunman. He was cautiously venturing from behind his cover, dark metal gun trained on the mismatched car. I guess I could consider myself lucky he only had a small caliber pistol with a manufactured silencer. It wasn't likely to pierce the entire car. But I was still left almost defenseless. My blasting rod and hand gun were locked in the Beetle, and I was left with my shielding bracelet and a ring with only enough juice for one spell.

"Mr. Dresden…" Vincent called again, having pulled himself together and taken cover against the VW as I had.

"Be quiet," I told him gruffly. I'd have time to feel sorry for being rude later, but now I needed to figure out how to get out of this.

Dark pants and jacket that resembled some sort of civilian militia hung loosely on the gunman's frame. Medium height and build, he looked mid-thirties. From the way this one was dressed, I'd be willing to wager he was an outfitted hitter. And that probably meant he wasn't alone and the exits were covered. So I had to get rid of this one quickly and get out of here before more came along.

And since I only had my ring and shield bracelet, it meant I only had one shot. Decisions, decisions.

In as quick a motion as I could, I stood and hefted my ringed hand toward the assailant. Just as I had, however, his dark grey gun turned at me. I had managed to dive to one side just as he fired, the clap ringing through the garage. But that left me in the open and uncovered.

The concrete sparked briefly as I rolled away from another shot and away from the Bug. Of course, that would have to leave me trapped in the open between isles. And it would drain the last charge from my bracelet to shield a fourth shot as I slid in between a pair of S.U.V.'s. 

I'd like to say that I had performed some astonishing feat of wonder and calculated all sorts of mathematical equations inside my head as I leapt out again, hand already raised. That my dive back into the open, and the subsequent shot from my ring had been planned and elegant. But, the truth is that it had been entirely luck,

The product of mail order lessons in Latin and all of the creativity I possess in the thick of life threatening situations, the incantation came quick and the spell's effect quicker. "Stiria!"

The ring I wore grew icy cold to the point of physically burning as a sliver of white flew forward. An instant later the gunman fell to his knees with a gurgle as the tiny dart of ice splashed the concrete floor with his blood. Reluctant to go without a fight, he managed to squeeze a final, wide shot before dropping his gun.

---


End file.
